


Blood Money

by Lady_Kit



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (They don't even get a name; very minor), Alternate Universe - Pirate, I don't know what else to tag for, M/M, Minor Character Death, Violence, chapters tagged individually, it's a pirate au guys, period-typical violence, reference to amputation, reference to period-typical injuries, reference to suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2019-09-27 01:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17152775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Kit/pseuds/Lady_Kit
Summary: Edge didn't expect to get kidnapped by pirates, of all things. And he certainly didn't expect to fall in love with one of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Paintyyy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paintyyy/gifts).



Edge spotted Slim leaning against the ship’s railing and winced. He came to stand beside the other passenger and asked, “Sea sick?” Slim shook his head but said no more. He’d been growing increasingly anxious as they got further and further away from port. Edge had hoped it might be sea sickness—he was a surgeon; Edge had some tricks that could help with that—but it was becoming increasingly obvious that something much harder to fix was plaguing him.

Tugging on the cuffs of his shirt, Edge cast his gaze out to sea, not sure what to say. His brow-bones furrowed. “…Do you see that?” Slim followed his gaze, cocking his head. He nodded. Frowning, Edge said, “I’m going to go find the captain.”

It took some convincing—the ship’s captain seemed to think his passengers were idiots that should be neither seen nor heard—but Edge finally managed to convince the man to come to the deck. He reluctantly got out his spyglass, sighing in exasperation. “It’s probably just another merchant. You landed monsters always think it’s—“ He dropped his spyglass. “Piss and _shit_ ,” he swore. Raising his voice, he called out, “Ready your weapons, lads! Pirates on the starboard side coming on fast.” He turned to Edge and Slim. “You two get below deck.”

Slim clapped a hand around the captain’s arm, his eyelights intense. “you shouldn’t fight them.”

“What?” He tried to shake off Slim’s hand, but he only tightened his grip.

“if you surrender, they’ll let you go. if you make it hard for them, they’ll kill everyone on board. starting with you.”

Edge’s sockets widened. “Is that true?” he demanded.

The captain sneered. “Our hull’s full of spices and silks. ‘Cross the sea, they’re worth more than the lives of these miserable curs.” Edge glared and Slim pulled back, both of them shocked. Edge opened his mouth, but the ship rocked underfoot as they fired on the approaching pirate ship. His mouth snapped shut and he turned to see how close they’d drawn. “Best get below decks and pray to the Angel we come through,” the captain said, “You don’t want to know what they’ll do to you two.”

“You fool,” Edge snarled, grabbing Slim’s wrist and dragging him below decks before the captain could say anything more.

They had to navigate past the harried crew, who were searching for knives and guns to meet the pirates. It was a merchant vessel, but they were far from defenseless. Sailors yelled out orders as they loaded the cannons. “Fire!” The gunpowder caught and the ship rocked, the explosion deafening.

Skull ringing, Edge managed to drag Slim all the way down to the passengers’ small cabins, pulling him in behind him. He searched through his valise, pulling out a pistol. He loaded it hurriedly, cursing as he did so. He’d only be able to get one shot off, and ever since he’d taken his doctor’s oaths, he’d strived to put his misdeeds behind him. Pulling out the weapon left him with mixed feelings. But he wasn’t the type to go down without a fight.

Slim glanced at him and the weapon, raising a brow-bone. Digging into an inner pocket, he pulled out a cigar and matches. “unless that’s for yourself, it’s not going to do you much good.” He neatly clipped the end and lit the cigar, puffing to get it started. “you smoke?”

Edge stared at him, close to screaming. “How are you so calm?” he demanded. Slim offered him a cigar and the matchbox. Edge glared at him until he finally put it away with a shrug.

Above decks, they could hear more cannon fire. The ship rocked and shuddered, and set Edge’s soul to hammering. It only grew worse when the cannon fire stopped and the shouted orders turned to screams. Edge glanced at Slim, but he had his sockets shut and his earholes stuffed with torn bits of blanket. Still smoking. Swallowing hard, Edge checked his pistol once more. The floorboards creaked above them. The pop of gunfire echoed through the ship’s hollow belly, followed by the clash of steel on steel.

Too soon, the ladder outside their cabin creaked, and Edge raised his pistol. Despite his hopes, when the door opened, it was not their captain looking back at them, but a pirate. His careworn clothing was spattered in blood, as was his scarred and skeletal face. “Heya!” he said, not even acknowledging the pistol Edge had trained on him. “How’re you folks tanight, huh? You passengers?”

“If you step past the threshold, I’ll shoot,” Edge said crisply.

The pirate just kept grinning. “He always this grumpy?” he asked Slim, who nodded helpfully. Growling, Edge cocked the hammer. “Heh. Look, sweetheart, ya really don’ wanna do tha’. See, the Cap’n gets _real_ bent outta shape when ‘e has ta replace ‘is mates. If ya come nice an’ easy, then he’ll jus’ take ya fer ransom. If yer families don’ got the money, then we’ll find some way fer ya ta pay yer way. Ain’t nobody gotta get hurt, yeah? So why don’ ya gimme ‘at an’ we’ll head up so ya c’n parlay with the Cap’n, huh?”

Edge stared hard at him. “Why should I believe you?”

His smile was sharp. “’cause all you’ll get fer shootin’ me is the satisfaction ‘a shootin’ me. Ain’t a matter ‘a believin’ me er not—‘s facts. So? Ya gonna play nice with me?”

For a few moments, Edge’s arm remained rigid. Then, with a growl, he lowered his arm and turned the pistol around to hand it to the pirate. He touched his brow in a mock salute, eyelight shining. “There ya go, darlin’.” He looked behind him, head cocked. “Sounds like the party’s dyin’ down. Le’s head on up, huh?” He motioned for them to lead the way, snatching Slim’s cigar as he passed. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, taking a drag. “Hnnn,” he sighed, smoke curling from his mouth and nasal aperture. “Tha’s _nice._ Ya got more ‘a those?” Without a word of protest, Slim produced the leather case and held it out to him. “Nah. Save ‘em as a present fer the Cap’n. He’ll ‘preciate it.” He took another drag before putting it out on his boot, saving the butt for later.

He urged them up the ladder and onto the gun deck. Edge kept his gaze focused straight ahead, ignoring the dust, blood, and gunpowder scattered across the deck. They went up the next ladder and emerged onto the main deck. Edge winced and squinted, temporarily blinded. “there he is,” a voice called out. “what did you bring me, twist?”

The pirate herding them onward laughed. “Found a pair a passengers b’low decks. This one’s a little feisty—“ A clawed hand planted itself on top of his head, knuckling the top of his skull. He snarled, but didn’t try to fight back. “—but reasonable.” He handed off Edge’s flintlock, winking. “’S cocked an’ loaded, Cap’n. An’ the other’s got a present fer ya~.”

Edge blinked rapidly, and as his eyelights adjusted, he saw another skeleton monster standing in the center of the deck. Just from his garb, Edge could guess this was the captain. Exotic feathers were pinned to his tricorn hat, and heavy rings bedecked his phalanges, glimmering in the sun. One socket was covered with a patch, that side of his face stiff and immobilized—palsy, he guessed, perhaps brought on by smallpox or shingles. Rare in a skeleton monster, but not unheard of.

The pirate captain studied the two passengers—prisoners, now, he supposed. “a present?” he asked skeptically, voice a harsh rasp. Grinning, the pirate—Twist, apparently—shoved Slim forward.

“Go on, sweetheart. Share with the good Cap’n.”

Slim hesitated, then—unbelievably—bowed and offered him the cigar case. The captain stared at him, while Twist laughed raucously. Shaking his head, the captain smoothly took the case, briefly glancing at the cigars before tucking them into his coat. “i’ll deal with you two in a moment. first—“ He stepped forward, regarding the kneeling sailors. “—who’s captain of this vessel?” An uneasy rippled went through the crowd. No one moved. No one spoke. The captain frowned. “i asked a very simple question, and i expect an answer.” Still no answer. Head rolling loosely on his neck, he turned to Twist. “any suggestions?”

Twist threw an arm over Edge’s shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Whaddaya think, sweetheart? Why don’ you give us a clue, huh?”

Edge said nothing. Smirking, Twist leaned close and whispered in his acoustic meatus. “They’re all gonna die anyway, darlin’. We start with the Cap’n ‘cause he’s the idiot that ordered ‘em ta fire on us. Keepin’ yer peace ain’t savin’ anybody anythin’.”

Edge took a slow breath. “Let the others go, and I’ll tell you who the captain is.”

Twist eyed his captain, but he shook his head. “Looks like we ain’t takin’ that deal, sweetheart. Try again.”

Edge ground his teeth, thinking. He cast his gaze over the pirates, noting that many of them were nursing injuries from the recent fight. “I’m a surgeon,” he said, inspired, “I’ll treat your men, if you—“

The pirate captain jumped when he heard that. “a surgeon?”

Edge nodded, and Twist laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Aw, yeah! I knew I had a good feelin’ ‘bout this trip. Ya heard that? He’s a surgeon!”

“i heard.” The other prisoners forgotten, the captain focused on him. “you have supplies? a medical bag?”

“Yes. Below decks.”

Turning to another monster, the captain ordered, “fetch the doctor’s bag.” Turning to Twist, he said, “take him aboard. get him whatever he needs.”

Another half-mocking salute and Twist guided Edge away. Looking over his shoulder, Edge demanded, “What about them? Will you let them go?”

The captain’s eyelight was cold and steely. Turning away from Edge, he eyed the kneeling sailors. “any carpenters? blacksmiths? anyone here worth whatever they’ll cost us in water and hardtack? no? well, does anyone want to give up the name of the idiot that decided your lives weren’t worth his precious cargo?”

Slim, tugging on the captain’s sleeve, pointed to the merchant captain. “him.”

He smiled, patting the top of his head. “thanks, love.” He raised Edge’s pistol and shot the merchant captain through the eye. “you just earned yourself passage to the next port of call.” He offered an arm and Slim took it, allowing him to escort him to the other ship. To his men, he shouted, “kill the rest and take whatever you can carry. leave the ship as a warning to anyone else stupid enough to fight back.”

Edge shrieked, but Twist threw him over one shoulder and swatted him sharply on the coccyx. “None ‘a that now. They all knew the risks, an’ they all knew if they didn’ wan’ it ta come ta this, all they had ta do was surrender. They’ve all heard the stories; they knew what they were doin’. You jus’ settle down, doc. Got a job fer ya.”

“You’re insane if you think I’m going to work for you!”

Walking sedately behind them, the pirate captain said, “you either work, or you get thrown overboard. those are the rules. no freeloaders on my ship.”

Eyelights flaring, Edge snarled, “Then tell your man to throw me overboard. I won’t be party to this.”

Twist snickered. “Told ya ‘e was feisty.”

The captain grunted. “he’ll settle down soon enough.” The ‘or else’ was unspoken, but obvious. They parted ways as the captain led Slim away, and Twist carried him deeper into the belly of the ship, down to the crews’ quarters. Hammocks were strung across the deck, and Edge frowned. The lower decks of a ship never smelled very pleasant, but the scent of illness was prominent here.

Twist set him down carefully. “’M gonna have ta ask ya ta behave, doc. Our boy’s sick, an’ he needs yer help. But if yer jus’ gonna pitch a fit, then I’ll take ya outta ‘ere ‘til ya learn some manners. Un’erstand me?”

Edge stared into the hold, spotting one occupied hammock at the far end. His fist clenched closed. He didn’t want to be here. He hadn’t volunteered his services just for them to turn around and slaughter the crew. But seeing that huddled form tugged at his soul. “How long has he been like this?”

“Few days now. We know it ain’t good, doc, but nuthin’ we’re doin’ fer ‘im seems ta help.”

Edge’s jaw twitched. Then he sighed. “What’s his name?”

“Rus.”

He nodded. “Get my bag and some smallbeer. He needs something to drink.”

“We don’t have—“

“Then get me whatever you _do_ have!” he snapped. “If he’s running a fever, he’ll need water, and he needs it now.”

“Sure thing, doc. Whatever ya need.”

He ducked out of the cabin and Edge sighed, walking over to Rus’ bedside. He laid the back of his hand against Rus’ forehead, wincing at the high temperature. He smoothed a hand over his brow, wiping the magic-tinged sweat away. “Rus? Can you hear me?”

His sockets fluttered, and when he opened them, his eyelights were hazy and dilated. “who’re you?” he slurred.

“I’m a doctor. I’m here to help.”

“you sure?”

“Quite.”

“right. just checking. hey, doc?”

“What is it?”

“am i gonna die?”

The way he asked that question—matter of fact and unemotional—did more to motivate Edge than any number of threats the pirate captain had issued. “No, Rus. You’ll be just fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

-

Living with the pirates was not what Edge might have expected. It was his first experience with a real democracy, for one thing. The captain—called Cash, apparently—would call for a vote on any issue of significance, only taking direct command in battle. And while Edge had technically been pressed into unwilling service, Twist came by after every conquest and portioned out his share. No matter how Edge protested.

_(“I don’t want your blood money.”_

_“Sweetheart, all money’s bloody if ya look at it too long. Take yer share an’ quit complainin’—we don’t keep slaves ‘round here, an’ we ain’t startin’ with you.”)_

He leaned against the rail, watching as they drew closer and closer to port. Rus came up beside him, his demeanor reserved. “so,” he started, “crew voted on it. none of them want you to leave.” Edge huffed.

“Of course not. Alphys is a fine blacksmith, but she’s not a surgeon. I can’t imagine how many amputations she’s botched.”

Rus chuckled. “eh. she’s gotten better. but, uh…” He sighed, leaning against the railing. “…none of us want you to leave, but no one wanted to force you to stay either.” He glanced at Edge. “soon as we get into port, you’re free to walk.” He swallowed. “i can help you with your loot, if you like. easier to travel with gold than reams of silk, right?”

Edge blinked. “I’m…. You’ll let me leave?”

“yeah. told you. crew voted—you’re, uh, you’re free to go.” He winced. “cap’n says it’ll be harder to do without a good surgeon, now that we’ve had the taste. think he’s gonna try to find someone willing to sail with us.” He smiled slightly. “gotta admit, the pay’s good, right? should be able to tempt someone into it.”

Edge huffed, watching the waves. “Is that why you stay? The money?”

“nah. gold’s fine but….” Rus leaned into him, knocking their shoulders together. He smiled slightly. “i stay because i don’t want to be anywhere else.”

Edge turned and caught his shoulder, finally asking the question that had been plaguing him since Rus had roused enough to hold a coherent conversation. They’d grown close during his recovery, and closer still after he was healed. “You’re an intelligent man. Educated. You could ship out with any merchant or navy vessel you cared to name; navigators of your skill are always in short supply. Why this ship? Why piracy?”

For a while, Rus was quiet. Then, slowly, he asked, “you ever been on one of those navy ships? ever treated a sailor?” Edge shook his head. “well, when you do…check their back. his majesty’s officers are real liberal with the whip, and the merchants aren’t much better. cash has a reputation as a hardass and he’ll work you hard, but he isn’t stupid. he pays fair, does his best to keep the crew in one piece. and if you end up losing a hand or a leg, he compensates you for it.” He eyed Edge. “crew comes first with him. always. can’t find that on any merchant vessel, let alone in the navy. its why we keep voting him in as captain.”

Edge frowned. He couldn’t say he really liked Cash. Twist grew on him—like a tumor; like it or not, there he was—as did Slim and the other members of the crew. Nevertheless, he couldn’t come out and say that Rus was wrong. From what he’d seen, Cash really did seem to care about his crew. “Would you ever consider leaving?”

Rus reached out and caught his hand. “would you ever consider staying?”

Edge inhaled sharply. He shut his sockets, not daring to look at Rus. Because he had considered it. In the darkness of the crews’ quarters, when he and Rus were huddled together on the same hammock; in the shadowed corners of the hold, where they stole a few quick kisses. When Rus pressed their foreheads together and murmured, “i love you," like a secret. 

He’d done more than consider it in those moments. He’d fantasized about it. Longed for it. His fingers tightened around Rus’ hand. Rus drew closer, nuzzling his cervical vertebrae. “edge….”

“ _Don’t_ ,” he hissed. “Don’t make this difficult.”

His hands crept around Edge’s hips, squeezing. “it doesn’t have to be difficult, precious. just stay. stay with us. stay with _me_. slim’s staying. found his way into the captain’s quarters, and i don’t think he’ll be leaving any time soon. you could— _we_ could—”

“ _Stop._ ” Rus fell silent, but he didn’t pull away. “I can’t stay. I became a surgeon because I wanted to help people. Being party to-to all _this_ is—I can’t do it. I _can’t_.”

Rus’ arms tightened. “who, exactly, are your patients going to be then? the nobility? you’ve seen the way they treat their serfs, and their taxes are nothing short of robbery. the merchants and farmers have built their fortune on the backs of slaves. would treating us be all that different? you could treat the poor, if you like, but then how will you eat? face it, precious; no one’s innocent. no one’s hands are clean. you’re gonna have to get a bit dirty yourself if you want to survive. besides…” He lowered his voice, murmuring directly into his acoustic meatus. “…twist said you held that pistol on him like you knew how to use it. i’m gonna go ahead and guess you’re not as squeaky clean as you’d like to pretend you are.”

Edge’s hands tightened on the railing. “Off,” he snapped. When Rus didn’t move, he snarled, “Get off!”

Slowly, Rus backed away. “think about it. please.”

He already was, even if he didn’t want to admit to it. He turned back to the railing, watching the ship get closer and closer to land, knowing he’d have to make a decision and make it soon. Rus had the courtesy to leave him alone with his thoughts, and perhaps Edge should have been grateful he wasn’t trying to influence him further…but he only found himself wishing to feel his arms around him again.

As they pulled into port, Edge stepped away from the railing and went below decks to seek out Rus. He found him in the hold with Twist, tallying their supplies. He cleared his throat to get their attention. “You said you could help me get gold for my…loot.” Rus swallowed hard, but he forced a grin.

“yeah. ‘course. whatever you like.” Twist reached out and squeezed his shoulder, his good eyelight overbright and pained. Rus just brushed him off. “i’ll, uh, see you later, then,” he said to Twist, “we’re shipping out in a few days, right?”

“Four days,” he agreed. “Cap’n wants everybody back by midnight 'a the fourth day.”

“right. i’ll be here.”

Edge cleared his throat again. “As will I.”

Rus blinked. “to…to say goodbye?”

Edge raised a brow-bone. “Am I no longer welcome on board? I thought I was invited to remain as part of the crew.”

Rus’ mouth hung open, speechless. Twist’s ever-present smile broadened, and he threw an arm over both their shoulders, drawing them in for a hug. “Aw, darlin’, ‘m so happy ta hear that!”

Shoving him away, Edge dusted himself off and glared. “Undyne’s injuries are improving, but I want to keep an eye on her as she adjusts to the prosthetic, and I don’t like the look of that scratch on Gerson’s leg. Without careful tending, it will start to rot.” He lifted his chin. “I’m not in the habit of abandoning my patients before they’re healed.”

Twist’s eyelight twinkled. “Uh-huh. Sure, sweetheart. Gimme a list ‘a supplies an’ I’ll be sure ta get ‘em while we’re docked, huh?” Edge hesitated, but Twist cocked a brow-bone. “’M the quartermaster, darlin’. Ya think I can’t find supplies fer ya?”

“Fine.” He listed off the various supplies he would need, going over it with Twist several times until he was confident the big oaf had it memorized. To Rus, he said, “Well? Are you still willing to help me, or not?”

Grinning, Rus followed him off the ship, catching him up in a heated kiss the moment they were alone. “i thought you were leaving.”

Breathless, Edge pressed their foreheads together. “I thought about it.”

“but you’re not.”

“I’m not.” They kissed again, slower and deeper this time. Luxuriating in it. Shaking his head, Edge pulled away. “You’re distracting me. While we’re here, there’s something I need to do.”

“me?”

He rolled his eyelights, but kissed him again. “Before that.”

“wait—“

“First.” He touched their teeth together, the kiss almost chaste. “I need gold. Then, I’m going to buy medical supplies.”

“twist takes care of ship supplies, precious. let’s just find someplace to—“

Another chaste kiss silenced him. “It’s not for the ship.” Rus cocked his head. Edge ran a thumb along his mandible. “I ought to thank you. It’s your idea, really.”

“what idea’s that?”

“Treat the poor,” he said. “There’s only so much I can do in just a few days, but it’s better than nothing.” His gaze dropped. “My hands may not be clean, but I can at least try to do something good with my ill-gotten gains.”

He looked up, and Rus was staring at him with wide sockets, his eyelights shimmering. He surged forward and pressed their mouths together, kissing him hard. One hand settled on the back of his neck, while the other dipped down to cup his sacrum. Rus’ tongue swept into his mouth, his magic tingling along his jaw and palate. It was dizzying. Overwhelming. Edge found himself pressing back on instinct, gripping the sides of Rus’ skull desperately.

When they pulled back, Rus pressed their foreheads together and murmured, “stars above, precious. i love you.”

“I love you too.”

Edge pulled in him for another kiss, thinking that he might have to rearrange his priorities for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things onboard the ship prove to be a bit different from what either Edge or Slim expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Uh...kissing? Minor manipulative behavior. Gross food (by way of insects in the food). Use of alcohol. Smoking. 
> 
> A/N: I hope it's clear in the fic itself, but this bit takes place in between the first and second parts of the first chapter. I wrote the first chapter as a oneshot, not knowing if or when I'd write more for it, so there was a huge timeskip so it reads like a coherent story on its own. Now I'm going back to try to fill in some of the bits we didn't get to see in that first chapter.

Slim walked along the interior of the ship, running his hand over the wood. It was stuffy in here, and it smelled primarily of pitch and gunpowder and sea salt, covering up the undercurrent of something sour and unpleasant. Nevertheless, the ship was well kept and orderly. He’d heard rumors that pirates were a slovenly lot, but he saw no trace of that here—the captain seemed to keep his ship in order.

Slim smirked slightly, a spark of greed in his eyelights.

He could get used to this, he thought. At least until he reached shore. It was certainly better than being shipped off to his father’s plantation in the colonies to ‘learn some discipline’. His expression soured, remembering the way his father had looked at him before sending him off on the merchant ship. He’d probably thank the gods when he learned his son had been ‘lost at sea’—he’d always said his cousin would be a better, less disappointing heir anyway. Slim really couldn’t decide which was more appealing: staying ‘lost’ or coming back just to rile him up further.

Putting his father and his past out of mind, he continued to explore, studying the cannons and wrinkling his nose at the hammocks and the monsters sleeping there. He didn’t relish sleeping like that night after night…. He cast his eye toward the stern of the ship, where the captain had his quarters. Despite the palsy paralyzing half his face, the captain hadn’t been bad to look at, and Slim had no qualms about keeping a man entertained—yet another quality his father had hoped to train out of him. Perhaps—

“Heya, darlin’. Lost?”

Slim paused, turning to regard the pirate that had pulled Edge and him from the merchant ship. “just getting familiar with the ship,” he said smoothly. The pirate—Twist, the captain had said—nodded, scratching along his jawline.

“Alright, tha’s fine. Cap’n tell ya what yer job was gonna be?”

Slim furrowed his brows. “…i thought he’d said i already earned my passage.”

Twist’s working eyelight gleamed. “Did ‘e now?”

Something in his tone made Slim bristle. “he did. you were _there_.”

The pirate smirked, walking toward him with a slight swagger. “Oh, aye. Now tha’ ya mention it, think I did hear ‘im say sumthin’ like that. But, uh, yer still gonna need a job ‘round ‘ere.” Slim opened his mouth to protest, but the bigger pirate leaned against the wall beside him, looming over him. Slim swallowed hard, the back of his neck prickling. “Trust me, sweetheart. Whate’er the Cap’n said, the crew’ll get restless if they see ya loungin’ ‘round, free an’ easy. Ya really don’ wan’ that. ‘sides,” he added with a wink, “Cap’n ain’t in charge outside ‘a battle. So, since he ain’t got nuthin’ in mind fer ya, I’ll find sumthin’ ta keep yer hands busy, yeah?”

Before Slim could protest, Twist snatched up one of his hands, studying his palm. Slim tried to yank it back, but his grip was like iron. His soul started to beat harder. Twist ran a finger over his metacarpals and phalanges, shaking his head and ‘tsk’ing softly. “Tch. You ain’t ever done a real day’s work in yer life, have ya, darlin’?”

Slim’s sockets narrowed and he, again, tried to yank his hand away. This time, Twist let him go, smirking. “fuck off!” he snapped, holding his hand against his chest defensively.

Twist just laughed, eyelight twinkling. Slim grit his jaw, eyelights contracting into angry pinpricks. “’least you c’n talk like a sailor, huh? Don’ worry, sweetheart. I’ll find sumthin’ nice an’ easy fer ya. Come with me, yeah?” He pulled away.

Slim, growling under his breath, glared at his back. He wasn’t going to follow, but then Twist turned to look back at him, one brow-bone raised. Slim realized he wasn’t going to be able slink away; it was a fairly large ship, but he couldn’t hope to hide from Twist onboard. Grumbling to himself, he followed along behind him. He wasn’t especially surprised when Twist gave him a mop and a bucket and told him to swab the decks, but he did rather resent it when Twist took it upon himself to teach him how to use them.

-

Rus’ fever broke the next morning, but his health would remain fragile for a while to come. Edge wished they had something other than hardtack and salt beef to feed him, but it would have to do. He soaked the hardtack in some watered-down rum, mouth curling in disgust when weevils began crawling out it, drowning in the rum. He fished them out and flicked them away, shaking his head. “Disgusting,” he muttered under his breath.

He was able to soften the hardtack until it resembled something like porridge, spoon-feeding his prisoner. Rus laughed hoarsely, his forehead still streaked with sweat. “i think i can probably feed myself, doc.”

Edge wiped the sweat from his forehead, wondering if there was a way to get him into some fresh clothing. “You’ll need to rest for a few more days, and after that, you still need to take it easy for a while.”

“you think so?” There was something teasing in his tone, and Edge sighed.

“I mean it—please take this seriously.”

He shrugged at that, struggling to sit up in the hammock. Edge just planted a hand on his chest and held him down, glaring until he stopped fighting. With a sigh, the pirate relaxed under his hand. “you know, for a doctor, your bedside manner could really use some work.”

“And you’re rather talkative for a man that nearly died. Eat your…” Edge eyed the mashed up mix of hardtack and rum. He rubbed the spot between his brows, annoyed at himself, his patient, and the world in general. “…Food.”

“…if you want to call it that,” Rus replied cheekily, blinking owlishly when Edge jabbed a laden spoonful into his mouth.

“I think I liked you better when you were delirious.”

The pirate had the audacity to _wink_ at him, taking the spoon out of his mouth before Edge could pull it back. His expression sobered a moment later though, and he again started to struggle to sit upright. “captain—“ Edge held him down, turn his head to glare at the skeleton monster behind him.

“You’re disturbing my patient,” Edge snapped.

The pirate captain raised a brow-bone, the other side of his face completely immobilized. “i came to check on your progress. how is he?”

“he’s fine! ready for duty whenever—“

One corner of his mouth twitched slightly, though Edge couldn’t tell if he was repressing a smile or a grimace. “how is he, _doctor_?” The slight emphasis made it clear that he wasn’t asking Rus.

“Annoying.”

The captain nodded, as if this was expected. “he’s also my best navigator—”

Under his breath, Rus muttered, “i was the only navigator crazy enough to sign on….”

“—so i expect you to give him the best possible care. am i understood?”

Edge snorted, returning his attention to the bowl of makeshift porridge. “We’re on a ship in the middle of the ocean, without any proper supplies—my ‘best’ in these conditions is not going to be _my_ best.” Softening slightly, Edge stirred the mash and spooned more into Rus’ mouth, ignoring the way his patient’s cheekbones lit up in embarrassment. “His fever’s broken, though, and the worst is past. He needs a few more days’ rest, and he’ll have some lingering weakness for a while yet. However, his prognosis is good. I expect him to make a full recovery.”

“good work, doctor. next time we dock, we’ll see if we can get you some proper medical supplies.”

“That won’t be necessary. I will be departing at the next port.” The captain said nothing, and his patient looked away from him. Spine straight, Edge turned to stare down the captain. “You can’t possibly mean to keep me here against my will.”

The captain shrugged. “we’re pirates, love. skilled hands are hard to find—we keep what we catch.” He glanced at Rus. “besides, you might even come to like it here.” He lifted his chin, touching the rim of his hat in a gesture of respect. “thank you for tending to my crewman, but let me assure you, if i have any reason to believe you aren’t treating him—or another patient—to the best of your abilities, i’ll have twist throw you overboard.”

“Try it,” Edge growled.

The captain’s good eyelight gleamed, but he only seemed amused by the threat. “get better soon,” he told Rus, “and follow the doctor’s orders.”

Edge glared at his back as he left, wishing for his flintlock despite his vow to put his past behind him. “hey.” He turned back to Rus, features still set. “it, uh, it isn’t so bad, you know. sailing with us. besides, he won’t really throw you overboard. not without a trial first, at least.”

Edge ignored him and stirred the mash, stewing silently.

-

Slim stared at his hands, wincing. Bone couldn’t blister, but his had definitely suffered for the last week’s worth of work. The rough handle of the mop, the harsh rope used for the rigging, the salty spray—all of it left his joints inflamed and his hands aching. Someone came up behind him and whistled, causing him to jump.

“Heh,” Twist chuckled, grabbing his hand to study it. “Well, wouldja lookit that?” He smirked, catching Slim’s socket. “Startin’ ta build up some calluses, ain’t ya?” Slim, glaring, yanked his hand away. Twist just laughed and clapped him on the back, guiding him down into the belly of the ship. “Why don’ ya see the doc ‘bout those hands? Might be he c’n wrap ‘em for ya er sumthin’.” He squeezed Slim’s shoulder. “I’ve got a new job fer ya, sweetheart, an’ yer gonna need strong hands fer it, so heal up soon, yeah?”

With that, he walked away, whistling softly. Slim just glared at his back, hands still stinging. He stood there, debating with himself for a few minutes. Seeing Edge about his hands was a good idea, but he resisted simply because the quartermaster was the source of the suggestion. Slim was pretty sure he was coming to hate the bigger monster. He was always smiling, always laughing about something—and Slim couldn’t help but suspect that he was the butt of some secret joke the pirate wouldn’t share.

It was the deep, persistent ache in his joints that finally convinced him to take Twist’s advice, no matter how much he resented the source. Grumbling to himself, he sought out his fellow former passenger. It was a rather large ship—a stolen man-of-war—but even so, it didn’t take long to find him. Slim paused at the entrance to the hold, though, surprised that Edge had been allowed inside. He cleared his throat, catching the surgeon’s attention.

“What is it?” Slim held up his hand, tilting them so the lantern light highlighted his inflamed joints. Edge swore, sockets narrow. “What have you been _doing_?” he snapped, climbing the ladder.

“mopping,” he said sardonically.

Edge huffed, shaking his head as he studied his hands. “Stars above….” Grabbing Slim by the wrist, he dragged him upstairs. “Come along, then. I’m sure I can find something to help with that.”

“what were you doing in the hold?”

“Trying to find something to restock my kit. If I’m going to be pressed into service, then they’re going to provide me with medical supplies. There’s linen for bandages and wood for splints, but little else.”

Slim raised a brow-bone as Edge shoved him onto a stool. “…pressed into service?”

Edge met his sockets, his red eyelights bright and angry. “Apparently, I won’t be leaving when we next dock.” Slim’s sockets widened. Edge looked away from him, pulling his kit from under the stool. “Give me your hands.”

“…i’m sorry,” Slim murmured.

Edge snorted. “It’s not your concern. Give me your hands.” Slim offered them to him, and he looked them over, shaking his head and muttering to himself. “You have gloves? No? Find some. You need something to keep the salt out of your joints. It should help with the friction burns too.” He grumbled something about not having fresh water to wash with, then pulled a bottle of clear liquid out of the bag. “This will sting.” He poured some of the liquid on a square of bandage and used it to wipe down Slim’s hands.

‘Sting’ was a criminal understatement. Slim hissed through his teeth, toes curling and sockets squeezing shut. He didn’t complain, though, and Edge patted his knee, assuring him that they were almost finished. Finally, Edge deemed his hands clean enough and wrapped them in fresh bandages. “How does that feel? Better?”

The sharp sting hand faded, and Slim tentatively bent his fingers. Slowly, he nodded. His joints were still inflamed and they still ached, but the ache wasn’t as sharp and the bandage was soothing. “Gloves,” Edge insisted, arms crossed. “Consider that a prescription.”

Slim nodded slowly, glancing up at him. “got it, doc.”

“Good.” With a firm nod, Edge walked away, heading back toward the hold. As he’d seen to Slim’s hands, though, more crewmen had started to fill the room—the galley was located on this deck, and most of the crew gathered here in the evening to eat and talk and tell stories. One pirate, a fish monster with only one eye, threw an arm over Edge’s shoulders and drew him toward a table. Edge started to shake her off, but another skeleton monster appeared in the doorway and insisted that he stay with them.

Edge faltered, but with a huff, he agreed, allowing the two of them to pull him over to the table for a game of cards. Slim watched them, tempted to join in…until Twist appeared and bounded over to the table. Slim scowled and looked at his hands, deciding he’d rather try to find a pair of gloves.

He slunk out of the room, praying Twist wouldn’t notice him. He had no idea where to find a pair of gloves and had no intention of asking the quartermaster. On land or on another ship, he might have considered simply stealing a pair. The whole crew hung their kits with their hammocks—a surprising a display of trust, considering everyone onboard was, by definition, a thief. The idea made him uneasy, though. The crew of pirates was more welcoming and comradely than the merchant crew had ever been. That fraternal spirit left him feeling uneasy and distrustful. Theft seemed like a bad idea—at least until he could learn more about the crew and the ship and the way everything worked around here.

As he climbed to the next deck, an idea occurred to him, and he smiled slowly. If he played his cards right, he might even find his passage onboard much easier. Sauntering toward the stern of the ship, he knocked politely on the captain’s door. A raspy voice ordered him to enter. Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, Slim pushed the door open and stepped inside, offering the captain an abbreviated bow. “good evening, sir.”

The captain held up a finger, obviously commanding him to wait. He had a logbook in front of him, and he was scribbling something. When the quill’s ink ran out, he capped the inkpot and began cleaning the excess ink from the quill’s tip. Turning to face him, the captain looked him up and down. “good evening, mister…?”

“slim, sir. call me slim.”

The captain nodded. “a nickname, i assume?” Slim hesitated, and the captain quirked his good brow-bone. “you come from money; you can’t assume i’d believe that’s your actual name.”

Slim flushed and looked away, popping his jaw. “…how did you know?”

The captain snorted. “because i’m not blind.” He huffed. “not completely, at least. so? you needed something, _slim_?”

Off balance now, Slim hesitated. It seemed suddenly stupid, now, to use his need for gloves as an opening salvo for seduction. He fiddled with his coat sleeve, dropping his gaze. “just wondering when we might dock, sir.”

The captain raised one shoulder in an abbreviated shrug. “before our supplies run out. when we get enough loot in the hold to make land. when the crew votes for a stop. it’s hard to say for sure. we don’t keep a set schedule, love.” His mouth twitched a little, but Slim couldn’t read his expression. Was he amused? Annoyed? “will you be leaving when we dock? or are you thinking about staying on?”

Slim’s head jerked up. “i—“ He swallowed. “hadn’t thought about it, sir.”

The captain huffed. “stop calling me ‘sir’. do i look like a military officer to you?”

Slim cocked a brow-bone, taking in the heavy boots he wore, the tricorn hat, his heavy brocade coat. “frankly, i’m not wholly sure what you look like.” The words were out of his mouth before he could take them back. His sockets went wide, but thankfully, the captain just laughed, settling more comfortably into his chair. His working eyelight gleamed a deep purple, darker than the soft violet of Slim’s eyelights.

He reached into his coat and pulled a pair of cigars from an inner pocket, offering one to Slim. “why don’t you join me, love?”

Slim smiled slightly, appreciating the irony. “i think i’d like that.”

-

Cash took in the other skeleton, studying him subtly. He was young—early twenties, if Cash had to guess. Young and cocky and probably a little stupid. It was almost cute, though. Puppyish. And Cash could see the faintest trace of the kind of man he could become. Left on his own, he’d become yet another indolent lordling with more money than he knew what to do with. Or dead, if he didn’t return to the safety of whatever family estate had spawned him. With a little guidance, though….

Cash rolled the cigar smoke around in his mouth, tasting the heat and the smoke. He opened his mouth, allowing it to cur away in lazy spirals. Slim had potential, and Cash had never been the type to squander a possible resource.

“so, if you weren’t planning to stay onboard, what were you planning to do when we docked?”

Slim paused, eyeing his cigar. They’d been chatting for a little while now, and Cash could tell he was trying to decide which lie to tell. “probably find a merchant ship headed back home.”

Cash chuckled and shook his head. “really?” he asked, “what do you have back home that you’re so eager to get back to?” His cheekbones lit up, and he looked away. Cash smirked and leaned forward. “be honest now, puppy.” Slim’s head jerked around to look at him, clearly trying to decide if he ought to be upset at the pet name. “what are you really going to do?”

The pup took in a mouthful of smoke, small curls of it escaping from the corner of his jaw. He exhaled, watching the smoke swirl. “lean into it. let my father think i was lost at sea. it would be a relief for both of us.”

Cash nodded, leaning back to study him further. “and then?”

He shrugged one shoulder, eyelights unfocused as he stared out into the middle distance. “i’ll figure something out.”

Cash shook his head, trying not to laugh at him. He’d been young and dumb once too, after all. He’d made his share of stupid mistakes, and paid for them quite handsomely. “aye,” he murmured, “i imagine you will.” He allowed his gaze to sweep over the younger skeleton. “a pretty, flexible thing like you? i’m sure you’ll find someone willing to look after you.”

“ _hey_!” he snapped, bristling. “i’m not a whore.”

“watch your tone,” Cash said mildly, “nothing wrong with whoring. one of the last honest professions out there. you’d do well, if that’s the route you want to take, puppy.”

“it isn’t.”

Cash shrugged. “suit yourself. you have another profession in mind?”

He opened his mouth. Shut it. Then he looked away, cheekbones flushed. “i’m a bit old for an apprenticeship,” he muttered, sullen.

Cash nodded, taking pity on him. “a little gold could grease the way.” He pretended to study the cigar. “your passage is paid for, of course, but if you want to earn a little spending money on the way….” He glanced up, smirking when he saw he’d caught the boy’s eyelight. “my crew all earn a share of the loot. if you’re interested in more than swabbing decks, we can always use an extra set of hands. you could stay on as long as you want. leave when you have the funds for an apprenticeship. depending on your chosen profession and location, i might even be able to provide a…” He smirked a little. “…let’s call it a ‘reference’.”

Slim nodded slowly. “i think—“

The door to his cabin banged open, and Cash sighed. Only one person would dare barge in on him without knocking first. “i’m busy, twist. is this important?”

“Not even a little,” Twist said, slurring slightly. His eyelight brightened when he saw Slim. “Heya, darlin’. How’d ya talk yer way inta the cap’n’s quarters, huh?”

“he knocked,” Cash said pointedly. “sit down before you fall down, idiot.”

“Don’ mind if I do.” He flopped onto the bed beside Cash’s chair, making himself entirely too comfortable. “You gonna share?” he asked, eyeing Cash’s cigar.

Rolling his eyelight, Cash passed him the cigar. While Twist drew the smoke into his mouth, he turned to regard the puppy, carefully schooling his features when he saw the naked resentment on his features. Now that was _very_ interesting…. Body taut, the younger skeleton stood and put his cigar out. “thank you for your hospitality, sir,” he muttered, “i’ll think about what you said.”

He turned to go, but Twist called him back. “Hey! C’mere, sweetheart.” Moving stiffly, Slim came to stand in front of him, chin lifted pugnaciously. Smiling, Twist reached into his coat and pulled out a pair of leather gloves. “Doc said ya could use a pair. Wanna preserve those pretty hands ‘a yers, right?” Slim snatched them from his fingers, tugging them on angrily. He turned to go, but Twist wasn’t done teasing him yet. “What? Don’ I get a thank you too?”

Stiff and cold, he bit out a short “thank you” before taking his leave. Cash shook his head, turning to look at Twist. “is there a reason you’re goading him?”

Twist winked. “’cause it’s fun.”

Cash snorted, snatching at the cigar. Twist didn’t let go, though, even as Cash brought it to his mouth. Purring quietly, Twist glanced at the firmly shut door, before sliding into Cash’s lap. He brought their mouths together. Smoke swirled as they kissed. Twist tasted of rum and salt and cigar smoke and something very distinctly Twist. “you’re drunk,” Cash accused when he pulled away.

Twist shrugged. “Only a little. What’re you thinking, sweetheart?”

“about?” Twist glanced at the door again, and Cash understood. “ah. about the puppy?”

Twist laughed. “Heh. He is kinda like a puppy, ain’t he? You wanna keep him? See if we can train ‘im inta a proper seadog?”

“maybe. if he’s willing.”

“He’s willin’. He jus’ needs a taste ‘a the life. I c’n see it in ‘im.”

Cash looked him over, running his hands idly over Twist’s hips. “you’re awfully confident.”

“’m a confidence man, ain’t I?”

Cash snorted, kissing him again. “that you are.” He couldn’t help smiling slightly, remembering their misspent youth. The two of them running around a dockside town, learning how to con men and monsters with more money than sense, picking pockets, sometimes turning tricks when desperation demanded. He ran his thumb over Twist’s cheekbone, his soul warm. “i primed him. dangled a line. you think you can reel him in?”

Twist’s grin was confident and easy. “Doncha trust me, Patches?”

“not any further than i can throw you.”

“Smart,” Twist rasped against his mouth, before delivering another long, slow kiss.

-

Edge frowned, watching Rus climb the ladder to the upper deck after everyone had started to disperse, the card game finished. The pirates that had spent their day on the upper decks were headed to bed, while the night watch headed up to begin their shift. Rus didn’t seem to keep to a regular schedule, though, and Edge was concerned that his patient was overextending himself.

Undyne tried to catch his arm as he moved to follow him, but then she followed his gaze and smirked. He ignored the flush that touched his cheekbones. “He’s a patient,” he snapped, blush darkening when he realized his outburst only caused her smirk to broaden. Flushed and annoyed, he stormed away, prepared to thoroughly chasten his _patient_ for overworking himself so soon after recovering from a _very serious illness_ and didn’t he know that he could—

His mental tirade was cut short when he found Rus on the upper deck, setting up his tools. Of course. He was the navigator. His job required both sunlight and starlight, and he was needed around the clock to keep an eyelight on their position and trajectory. Edge was about to turn around and leave Rus to his job, but unfortunately, the other skeleton looked up just then and smiled. “heya, doc. here to keep me company?”

He cleared his throat, looking out to the horizon. The sea was dark, the sky even darker. Stars peered through the sheet of black like pinpricks, glimmering. The moon was yet to rise, and the sun seemed a distant memory. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t overworking yourself,” he said, taking a step toward him. His eyelights fell to the array of tools laid out on the barrel Rus was using as a makeshift table. Despite himself, he stepped closer, curious. Rus smiled, holding a logbook to his chest.

“tools of the trade,” he said fondly, long fingers running over a brass sextant.

“They seem…complicated.”

Rus grinned. “you’re a physician,” he teased, “that’s far more complicated. this is just a bit of math and some star-gazing. the biological sciences are so…” He wrinkled his nasal ridge. “messy. i’ll stick with sextants and stars, thanks.”

Edge snorted. “Math and star-gazing. You sell yourself short.”

Rus gave a lopsided shrug. “nah. look—“ He came to stand beside Edge and pointed out over the water, toward a cluster of stars. “see that?” He leaned close, urging Edge to follow the line of his arm. “vargr.” At Edge’s upraised brow-bone, he elaborated. “the wolf.”

“…that hardly looks like a wolf to me.”

Rus laughed. “you have to use your imagination. see there? that’s the head. there are the forelegs and the hind. it’s a wolf, chasing…” His finger trailed across the sky, pointing to another cluster of stars. “…the sisters. see?” Leaning more fully against Edge, he said, “story goes, the wolf used to be a man. one day, he came upon the sisters while they were bathing. a passing goddess turned him into a beast for spying on her handmaids.”

“…And so now he’s chasing them across the sky for all eternity? What a terrible way to protect them.”

Snickering, Rus just shrugged. “no one said the goddess was good at her job.”

Before he could pull away, Edge pointed to another star cluster. “What about that one?”

“dreki—the dragon. _or…_ ” He smiled a little. “‘the ship’. it’s said to carry the worthy dead ‘cross the sky to the afterlife. the meaning is a bit ambigious; there’s a lot of debate since the original stories were never written down. you can pick your favorite interpretation and you’d be as right as anyone else.”

Edge grunted. “I think I prefer to think of it as the dragon, thanks.”

“yeah? not fond of thinking it’s a ship of dead men trekking across the sky? i’ve always rather liked that story. makes death seem like an adventure.” His eyelights were bright, and they seemed to dance in his sockets. For a moment, Edge found himself comparing them to the stars that hung overhead, and finding them prettier by far. Suddenly conscious of the way their hips pressed together and Rus’ hand on his shoulder, holding him close, he cleared his throat and pulled away, crossing his arms. “Well. I won’t keep you from your job. Goodnight.”

Rus just kept smiling warmly. “stars aren’t going anywhere, doc. you’re not keeping me from anything. ”

Warmth touched Edge’s cheekbones, and he swallowed, hoping Rus wouldn’t notice. “Another time. You need your rest, remember? So I expect you to—“ He waved a hand to encompass Rus’ tools. “—chart your stars or whatever it is that you do, exactly, and return to bed.”

“doctor’s orders?” he asked, eyelights still gleaming playfully.

“ _Yes_ ,” Edge said, lifting his chin. “Doctor’s orders.”

“i’m afraid i’ve never been very good at taking orders,” Rus said loftily. “maybe you’d better stick around. make sure i find my hammock at a reasonable hour.” Edge’s sockets narrowed, but Rus just smiled cheekily.

“Goodnight,” Edge said firmly, touching the brim of his hat as he headed back inside.

He could feel Rus’ gaze on him as he left, though, and he had to fight back the urge to glance back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this, Painty. I wanted it to be more focused on the Spicyhoney, but the TwistedPuppyMoney boys sort of took over. I hope you don't mind.

**Author's Note:**

> There's been a few people that were a bit confused, so I wanted to clarify that this is not related to Odderancy's Pirate AU, though it does share some superficial similarities. Additionally, if you're not familiar with their Pirate AU, then I recommend you take a look [HERE](https://odderancyart.tumblr.com/tagged/that-pirate-au). 
> 
> I can't rightly say that their fic inspired mine--this was written as a Secret Santa gift for Painty, and I was mostly inspired by their art and their love of pirates--but I can say that it is beautifully written and deserves some attention. If you enjoyed this, you'll definitely enjoy that, so please check it out. ^_^


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